The Point That Is Not On The Line
by Yumi-chan-likes-chainsaws
Summary: Surely the point of April Fool's day is that it's meant to be funny for everyone? Mutual unrequited love, USxUK Complete
1. One

_**A/N - Don't you just love coordinate geometry? **_

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><p><strong>x-The Point That Is Not On The Line<strong>-x

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><p>"Mattie!"<p>

The door to Canada's house flew open, smashing against the wall, causing bits of plaster to come raining down on a distressed Kumajiiro, who had been eating his food from the bowl situated behind said door. Canada looked up.

"America," Canada questioned, "Why are you here?"

America waved his arms wildly, speaking incoherently as he made pointing gestures to the calender beside him. His brother stared at him blankly, looking at the calender, which, moments ago, he had circled 'April 1st'. "And?" he said blankly.

"I need to trick people!" he moaned, thumping his head on the door, the noise making the small bear scarper over to his owner. Canada bent down and picked him up.

"Who?" the bear asked, looking up at the man holding him.

"Canada."

"Oh."

"Who in particular do you need to trick?" Canada sighed, petting the bear, who pawed his hand away, irritated.

A grin slowly played its way across America's face, making his brother slowly edge his seat away from him, for fear he might bring out the chainsaw again; Canada didn't have many good memories of that thing. Or any good ones, as a matter of fact.

"Iggy."

Canada smiled nervously, watching the never fading smile stretch even further across the other nation's face. "Well, there is a lot of tricks you could play on him. But why?"

Suddenly, America's fists smacked down on the table, causing the other to jump two feet off his chair, edging it so far away that he was no longer even on the same side of the room as his brother. "Why?" he asked incredulously, "Because every Halloween he goes and scares the shit out of me, so why the hell shouldn't I get him back for once! But it needs to be something good and I'm drawing a blank, Mattie, please!"

"Shouldn't you have been thinking about this before now?"

"I forgot."

Canada sighed. "Figures. Well, maybe hide his papers at the meeting today-" (America cussed. He'd forgotten about that too) "-or mimic everything he says or something. America, what made you think _I_ could help with such matters?"

America shrugged. "Japan would say I was being mean, and I doubt anyone else would help me."

Canada sighed. His brother had a point. "Well, maybe a bucket of water over the door, although, its likely that will get someone else, and, knowing your look, it would probably be Russia or Cuba or someone. Maybe Belarus-" (America shuddered. He'd rather not have his vital regions ripped off and eaten by the psycho) "-maybe pull his chair out from underneath him, but that might hurt him or something."

"Yeah, he is pretty old right; better not do anything that will give him a heart attack," the other chuckled cheerfully.

Canada sighed, racking his brain for something else reasonably intelligent to say in such a situation.

It wasn't that he entirely approved of tricking his former guardian, for whatever period of time, and at whatever standard; but it _was_ April Fool's day, and surely even England would get the joke and have a laugh about it, even if it for just one day.

He always felt, that compared to the favoritism that no doubt went on when they were children, that situation between the two after the 1700's left a lot to be desired.

"I know!" he said, jumping up, smiling across at his brother as his expression lit up with anticipation, "I did this to France when I was little, after England told me about this holiday."

America's ears twitched as he listened intently

"I went up to France, giggling all the while, and told him that I hated him and that I wished he would just go away. He got all upset and started to whine and complain and then I yelled April Fool's and he was so happy that I didn't mean it that he picked me up and cuddled me and remembered who I was for an entire week; maybe you should-?"

Canada looked up, and his brother was gone. "Eh, Kumajyoshi-san, where did he go?"

"Who?"

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><p>America rubbed his palms together gleefully as he headed back to his house to gather his things for the meeting at eleven. Canada was a genius; he knew his time wouldn't be completely wasted going and asking him for help, he just knew it (even if it had been Tony's idea to ask him anyway. Tony was no help; most of the things he suggestive would have been fatal for England, and possibly America too).<p>

But it needed a twist. An American twist.

America smirked; this was going to be rich. England wasn't going to know what hit him.

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><p>"And furthermore, even if that was possible, it wouldn't even work because the mass would block out any of the sun's rays-"<p>

America smirked, pretending to listen to England's rant. He winked at Canada who looked worriedly at him from over his glasses. He was beginning to regret giving America the idea; God knows how far America could take a joke. He might go over board, and an angry England wouldn't be good for anyone.

"America, are you even listening to me?" the elder yelled, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation as America shot him a smile instead of replying. "I don't know why I bother even talking to you! You don't listen to me or anything! You only care about your own opinions-"

America stood up, the smirk still plastered across his face.

"-and not the opinions anyone else may or may not have. You make stupid ideas and don't listen when I try and tell you what's wrong with them. Dammit, I didn't raise you that way. How-"

He walked over, placing his two hands on England's shoulders.

"-d-did you turn o-out, America what the bloody hell are you doing?"

America let his smirk drip off his face to be replaced with a look of sincerity mixed with worry. "I'm apologizing," he said simply.

Canada had his eyes fixed on the two, shifting to the edge of his seat. China and South Korea had stopped having their silent quarrel to look up at the unfolding scene before them two. France murmured 'merde' under his breath, lowering his glass of water to the desk in front of him and, as America leaned down to press his lips to England's, the room was silently staring.

England's eyes remained open, widened at first, before gradually narrowing as America pulled away, so slowly that it looked like he was barely moving. "That was a funny apology," he stated, willing his voice not to crack, quietly begging.

"Can I tell you that I love you?" America mumbled slowly, still only inches away from England's face.

He felt uncomfortable under all the scrutiny. Canada's glare was burning a hole in his back and he could see the panic stricken look on France's face from the corner of his eye. Japan had stopped taking notes and was staring at America as if he was trying to burn him under his gaze. Italy was poking a non responsive Germany, asking questions that the other man was in no obvious mood to answer as he hardened his already hard gaze on America.

England stared straight through him, his expression blank, and America took it as a yes. "Can I ask you something else too?"

This time England shook his head, lowering it so his choppy bangs fell over his eyes, covering his face. America blinked, and was about to question his elder's response when the other let out a small chuckle.

Canada fell back in his seat, cussing his brother out for being so impossibly stupid. France dropped his gaze from America, to his rival beside the man. Italy got the message off the glare Germany sent him and quietened down with a final 've'. Hungary got over the initial shock of the kiss and was now watching intently, ignoring Austria's attempts to get her to look at something else and give them privacy, but, then again, no one else was really giving them any privacy either.

Almost incoherently, England mumbled, "April Fool's," and walked straight out of the deathly silent room.


	2. Two

**x-The Point That Is Not On The Line**-x

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><p>England pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the bathroom mirror. Running away in such situations always seemed like the only option, but always turned out to be less when attempts to remain dignified came into play. He shouldn't have ran. He shouldn't have let his guard down and he shouldn't have thought so much of The United States of America.<p>

But, to tell the truth, he had been expecting it all day. He had been expecting America to tell him he actually liked his food. April Fool's. He had been expecting America to agree with his ideas. April Fool's. He had been expecting every cruel and unimaginative joke in the book for this horribly juvenile day; but not 'I love you'. Never 'I love you'.

He didn't know why he hadn't thought of that. It wasn't like he was so naive to think that America still cared about him after the revolution. The stupid git proved his distaste for him every other day; shooting him down and cutting him apart. So, to keep dignity, he always returned the favour, maybe slightly harsher, but still.

Maybe he thought that America, despite not giving a damn about him personally, at least had the decency to care of another's feelings.

But no.

England drew away from the mirror, glaring at his reflection. His hand reached to his face to wipe it, just to be sure. His face was dry, but it didn't necessarily mean the tear; that bloody tear, was never there. That it never existed in the first place.

That traitorous tear was going to be the death of him.

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><p>America watched the door slam as Canada stalked out through it, though not before giving America the filthiest look his mild features could manage.<p>

America would be lying if he said that he didn't think of a reaction like that from England and, in turn, all the others; but he's also be lying if he claimed that it was the reaction he wanted. No, he'd forced himself to think of other possible reaction England might have, like calling him an insolent brat or complaining that since he used to be his brother, there should be feelings left over.

But that must have been a mistake.

America did not just see England cry. He hadn't just made the older man cry _again_.

France stood with a sigh, brushing off his trousers and giving America a hard gaze. Others were still tutting and complaining, but doing absolutely nothing; France didn't like that. They wouldn't go help or survey the situation, yet they'd be perfectly happy to gossip about it with absent members over tea and coffee later that evening, at both male's expenses.

Waltzing over to the door, France put his hand on America's shoulder, on the way, for the briefest of moments, and stated, "Good job AKY. You couldn't get enough of his tears the first time around," and continued out the door, leaving a dismally quiet room in his wake.

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><p>Canada rapped quietly on the closed bathroom stall door, biting his lip.<p>

He had regretted giving America any ideas from the moment America had disappeared that morning before Canada had finished the story. Nothing good ever came from only knowing half the story; it was common knowledge.

The only acknowledgment he got from inside the cubicle was a muttered 'leave'. and a cuss as someone, obviously who he was looking for, tripped over a toilet roll or something similar.

The minute Canada had walked in the door, knowing this would be a place England would automatically run to, that most people would run away to, he heard a squeak and saw the blonde mop of hair disappearing into the cubicle he was now waiting outside of. If England thought he was blind as well as mildly translucent, then he was sorely mistaken.

"Mister England, come out," Canada said quietly, rapping on the door again.

The door swung open the wrong way, hitting Canada square in the jaw and revealing a stubborn, fuming Englishman in the remainder of the door's wake of destruction. His gaze was hardened as he gave Canada a look that could kill a man, even Prussia, and God knows what could actually cause him to die properly.

"I think you've mocked me enough today," he said coldly, turning to reenter the stall, but was stopped by Canada's hand reaching out to grasp his own wrist.

"Sorry," Canada murmured, wincing, "I apologize."

England blinked, before letting his gaze fall to the floor. "I appreciate you doing this, lad, but you've done nothing wrong," a forced smile was plastered across the elder's face, "Go back to the meeting and be sure to tell me what I'll miss, Canada."

And with that, the door swung shut in Canada's face again.

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><p>Outside the bathroom, France sighed, leaning up against the door. That moron had really done it this time; and all for some joke? He was more pathetic than France had originally thought, which was the lowest of low, as France didn't think too much of the boy to begin with.<p>

The door opened meekly and Canada peeped his head around. France blinked. "Canada; you tried talking to him?"

Shuffling, he received an answer, "He didn't say much; he's still in the stall and wont come out."

But Canada was talking to himself, he realized, as the door swung shut behind him. He sighed into Kumajiro's fur. "Forgotten again, eh?"

"Who?"

"Canada."

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><p>"Mon ami, hiding in bathrooms doing Godknowswhat in meeting time is low, even for you," France said, with a rap on the door.<p>

A muffled grunt came from inside, followed by a "Did you just come here to make fun of me, frog?"

With a shake of his head, France sighed. "Angleterre, just come out already. You have Mathieu all bothered and America looks like a lost cause."

"Whoo hoo for him; isn't it great to have all the power."

But England still opened the door.


	3. Three

**x-The Point That Is Not On The Line**-x

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><p>"Why are you doing this, frog?" England asked, sliding down to the floor in front of the sinks, his forefinger on his right hand pressing into his forehead, his expression tormented.<p>

France sighed, hunching down to stare his rival in the eyes; it gave him a annoying creak in his neck, as he had to twist his head to the side, almost upside down, as England's gaze was firmly on the floor. "Because America just broke the rules of amour," he answered, "And for once I cannot disagree with your actions."

England smirked. "He couldn't have broken the rules of amour; he never loved me."

France would have liked to say his wince was from England's horrific pronunciation.

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><p>Japan stood after a few painful moments and tiptoed over to America, breathing in before tapping him carefully, like a bomb about to detonate. "America-san, I think you should talk to him," the smaller said softly, letting his hand slide down the sleeve of the younger's leather jacket.<p>

America ducked his head before jolting it up, a translucent smile in place as he replied, "I'm sure he's fine."

Japan's eyes hardened and he dropped his hand. "Well, I think you're sorely mistaken," he said coolly, "As he didn't look 'fine' when he left and since when does your opinion equal the truth?"

America stared. "Did Switzerland tell you to say that?" he asked warily.

"No, I came up with it all by myself, thank you."

"You really feel that strongly about this?"

Japan sighed at the younger male's ignorance. "No America, _you are the one that feels strongly about this. Why cant you just go tell him that?"_

An indignant look. "I can!"America protested.

"Really-" inwardly, Japan smirked, "-Because I don't think you can."

"Can so!"

"Cannot."

America huffed, frustrated, shrugging off his bomber jacket and abandoning it carelessly on to the swivel chair behind him. "I'll show you I can! I'm gonna go tell England that I'm sorry!" he retorted, puffing his cheeks out in defiance.

Japan hummed. "Ah, that's not what I said; I bet you cant tell him how you feel."

"Fifty says I can!"

Japan nodded. "Alright then; don't let me keep you from it then," he said, stepping to the side as the boisterous American legged it out the door, impatient as usual. Japan gave a curious China a simple, knowing smile. Ah, children were all the same; reverse psychology had its uses.

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><p>The second the door shut, America stopped running and stopped dead in his tracks. He hadn't expected Japan to think he was honestly that immature that he wouldn't see through that trick after England using it on him so many times as a child to get him to have a bath or to go to bed on time or something.<p>

A smirk. He was going to get fifty bucks out of Japan's naivety and get England back, all at the same time.

Though, maybe _back _wasn't such a good way to describe it. He was gonna get England; simple as.

But, in reality and somewhere in the back of the young nation's head, he knew who the real naive one was.

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><p>"Look, he is so stupid, he probably still doesn't know what he did wrong," France exclaimed as England pressed his forehead against the glass once again, closing his eyes and wondering if it could, if it were a few degrees colder, freeze the taunting memories from his very mind. "Why don't we go back to the meeting room, like nothing ever happened, alright? I think I've had enough of this strangely polite conversation with you, mon ennemi."<p>

"What use would that be, frog?" England asked, somewhow finding the will to make his lips move in a last attempt to make civil conversation with the Frenchman, "Come next year, the same thing will happen again; he'll never cease and he's going to hurt someone else more important to him than I."

France sighed. "No need to self depricate, Angleterre. We were all thinking that to begin with."

France screamed effemitely as the soap _accidently _squirted in his eye.

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><p>"America, France is already in there."<p>

America fisted his hand and bit his lip to avoid making the situation even worse than it was already. Canada was looking at him disapprovingly and inside the bathroom was a deathly silence; as far as America could tell, anyways. "So?"

"I don't think either of them would appreciate you barging in on them right now," Canada sighed.

Now, there is a few conclusions one who didn't know much about the situation could presume, and one was the one America was drawing right now, and it wasn't a pretty one, for him at least. He scowled at the door, begrudgingly accepting the clenching in his chest for what it was.

'_England didn't really care in the first place, did he?'_

_'Why would he run from the room then? He's too proud to be seeking pity or attention; he must have felt _something'

_'But he doesn't care. He wouldn't care. Not anymore.'_

"America," Canada said softly, his voice to quiet and too calm to be harsh, "You should have realized this would happen before you even said it. If it was my place, I'd be disappointed in you; but it's not my place and not my life, is it?"

Looking at the floor, America responded. "France can go to hell; I want to talk to England."

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><p>The uncomfortable silence between the two in the bathroom was stifling. England had gone back to staring mindlessly in the mirror and France was sitting awkwardly on the ground, wary to say anything else in case of another assault of soap. He'd also ran out of kind and comforting words before he'd even started, and neither of them had anything more to add.<p>

If anything, the arrival of America outside the door had worsened things.

_"America, France is already in there."_

France sucked in a breath. Canada was a smart boy, a lot smarter than his brother. May not be the loudest, but he could be heard through paper thin doors if he really tried, and his brother wouldn't be any the wiser to the sudden change in tone and volume.

England's eyes, which had been dead before, were suddenly wide and staring, still facing the mirror as he mutter, "Shit," under his breath.

The Frenchman sighed, waving his hands in exasperation. "It wont be that hard. The boy wants to apologize, so let him; you raised him that way, so let it be done. Stop being so proud and accept that everyone makes mistakes and America's just happen to involve hurting you a lot, alright? So face it like a-"

France turned to see the plastic bathroom curtains fluttering in the breeze being let in by the wide open window.

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><p>It was raining outside, England noted.<p>

It always rained.

Constantly.

He cussed.

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><p>After France had opened the door (causing America, who was leaning on it, to fall flat on his face) and informed both of them that England was a lost cause and somewhere out in the rain, America went a searching for him, if this is defined by hitting France in the face for hitting him with the door and the running out into the wet car park like a headless chicken, that is.<p>

Swinging his head back and forth, America came to the conclusion that the bathroom windows did not lead to the front of the buliding, but, in fact, the back.

He cussed.

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><p>England felt the rain pitter patter down on his head, wondering when the meeting would end so he would actually be allowed leave the premises withput getting lectured. I didn't seem to matter if he was in the actual room, so much in the general area. He glared at the clouds, wishing for the hideous weather that had followed him like the Black Death since early childhood would leave him, just this once.<p>

He sniffled as water tickled the tip of his nose. He was uncomfortable, wet, and, though he wouldn't admit it, rather upset. That stupid little upstart shouldn't treat him like this. No.

"England!"

Snapping his head down from the clouds, England turned slowly to face said upstart, who was splashing his way over in puddles and wet grass to around three feet away from him. England's eyes hardened. "Yes?"

He watched as the younger sucked in a deep breath and forced the much needed words out between his lips. "I'm sorry."

A breath escaped England's lips before he realized he had been holding it and his head bagan to throb.

America continued on, spurred by England's silence. "Look, I get it; you're upset. I shouldn't have teased you and I'm apologizing now. What I did-"

England's fist collided with the American's face.

The bigger man stumbled, grumbling as his collided with a lampost, which gave the Englishman a sick satisfaction. "What the hell was that for!" America yelled, rubbing the back of his head, "I said sorry, so accept it, old man!"

England trembled slightly, not sure if it was with anger or something he refused to admit. His fist was throbbing, which made him even more agitated. "I wouldn't insult me so soon, America," he growled, pulling his wet sleeves over his mucky hands, "I have no intentions of forgiving you when I cant even tell if it's just another pathetic joke."

America blinked before looking downcast. "You think I'm kidding about something like this?"

"I wouldn't put it past you."

America chuckled; though his laugh contained no humor, as he tapped his forehead slightly. "I see how you would think that," he replied, just as the silence was becoming more awkward than tension filled, "But you're wrong. Look at your watch."

England narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the watch on his right wrist. "It's a quarter past twelve, midday. So?" he said, tapping his foot. America edged forward as realization slowly swamped the other man's face. "Oh."

"I'm sorry, England," America said simply again as he pulled England into a loose hug that the other didn't resist for once. "Accept it, please?"

Some unwanted thought fluttered through England's mind that if this were some book and there was any chance that the other male felt the same way as him (that is, presuming he felt anything, which he didn't, of course) that this would be the time for him to say it; but the other said nothing, just stood there with his arms wrapped around him, waiting for an answer.

"I-I accept, you idiot."

But he didn't live in a fairytale. Neither of them did.

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><p>Inside the bathroom, staring out the window at the two awkwardly embracing in the rain, France grumbled. They were still abusing amour.<p>

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><p>Three weeks later, America approached Japan in meeting room, where they were all in for yet another meeting, and said simply, "How much do I owe you?"<p> 


End file.
